


Kisses and Campfires

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Lams - Fandom
Genre: Gay, I'm Sorry, M/M, There are more people I just can't, dont be a sausage, hella gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 16:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9910808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a desperate search for a summer job, Alexander Hamilton becomes a counselor at a local summer camp. The pay is good, the other counselors are nice, and the food in the dining hall is great. The only problem? He's in love with his co-counselor.





	1. Chapter 1

Alexander Hamilton's rapid climb from poor kid to poor student to poor writer to even poorer teacher left little breathing room in the sheer quickness of it. His first year of teaching English at a local New York high school went by in a flurry, with few memorable students and even fewer teachers. Now, Alexander was faced with the horrible realization that summer was fast approaching. Without a summer job and a measly teacher's salary, he was pretty much destined to starve to death.  
On one of the last days of school, Alex was sitting at his desk, grading end-of-the-year papers when one of his students' conversations caught his attention.  
"It's really terrible," Camilla was saying to her friend, Julia. "The camp I go to might close down this summer."  
Julia looked taken aback. "Camp Schuyler? Why?"  
"A lot of the counselors quit recently. Some new management, you know? If they don't get some new counselors, they might have to shut down. I can't imagine why people would quit. It's great pay, I hear." Camilla sighed fondly. "I would love to be a counselor."  
Alexander not-so-casually meandered over to Camilla's desk. "So I hear there are counselor positions at Camp Schuyler?"  
Camilla laughed. "Are you really that excited to get a summer job?" Alexander rubbed a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Okay, okay. Yeah, there are spots open. You've got to email the director though. I think you would be a good counselor."  
Alex smiled. "Really?"  
Camilla grimaced good-naturedly. "Not really. You were a pretty shit teacher."  
"Well, you were a pretty shit student too, Cam."  
Camilla giggled and reached for her bag as the bell rang. "Whatever. Go email the director and try and get that job, okay?" Cam shouldered her bag and headed out the door with the rest of the class. "See you this summer, Mr. Hamilton."  
Alexander sat down at his desk, a smile on his face. He pulled up email on his computer, and after much googling, started drafting his email to the director.  
One of his fellow teachers stuck her head in the door. "Hey, Hamilton. The building's going to be closing in ten minutes. I thought I would warn you since last time you got locked in the building at closing." Alexander smiled at her and closed his laptop.  
"Thanks, Denise. I'll head out soon." The teacher shifted her bag on her shoulder and closed the door behind her.  
Alex leaned back in her swivel chair. If he could get this job at this camp, then that means no more missed rent. No more skimping on meals. In fact, free meals at the dining hall would probably be part of the package. He grinned largely. With a smile on his face Alexander packed up his bag and headed out towards the subway.  
The ride home was bumpy and noisy, like normal. Hamilton was buzzing with anticipation about the response that he would soon be getting. Either get a paycheck over the summer or find a friend to move in with.  
Alexander ate leftover Chinese takeout over his laptop, constantly refreshing his email. He completely finished grading his finals and washed his dishes before his computer chimed with an email alert.  
"Alexander Hamilton," the email read, "I have carefully reviewed your application to Camp Schuyler and deemed you very fitting for a position for a counselor. You have quite an impressive resume with leadership, and we always need people with experience teaching. As this is a camp that values the arts, you would be very valuable to us as either a creative writing or debate/public speaking counselor. Of course, you're always welcome to do both, as we are in need of both of those positions. Signed, George Washington."  
Alexander whooped with joy. He would be able to get a steady paycheck over the summer, and doing his favorite things in the world. Camilla, one of his favorite students, would be there too.  
Alex went to bed early, a monumental achievement, satisfied with the outcome of his job search. In a few days, he would be off to Camp Schuyler for the summer.

 

George Washington met Alexander at the gate of Schuyler, leading him and his luggage to the campsite he would be staying in.  
"This is your tent, Hamilton. You'll share it with another counselor, of course. We wouldn't entrust a bunch of teenagers in the hands of a new counselor." Alex set down his luggage on the creaky cot/bed, smiling at the director.  
"Who will I be working with?"  
"I'm going to put you with one of my more experienced counselors, Turtle. Don't worry, he's not obnoxious. He's a real sweetie, I promise."  
Alexander smiled meekly. "This may be rude, but is his name really 'Turtle'? That seems made up."  
George laughed. "It is made up. All the counselors go by fake names, it's tradition. Everyone except for me, of course. Everyone just calls me Washington." He laughed again, a deep friendly laugh that made him seem welcoming. "You'll need a name, thinking of it. You can make a name tag to help the kids remember your name, if you want."  
Alexander shrugged. "I'll just see if they forget my name or not." He pulled out a well-worn leather-bound notebook and pulled a pencil from behind his ear. "What about... Hurricane?" Washington nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.  
"Sounds good. I'll let Turtle show you around camp, okay?" A loud bang sounded from outside, followed by an "Ow! Goddamn!" Washington sighed. "Speak of the devil, right? This must be Turtle now."  
As if on cue, another man pushed open the flaps to the tent. He looked about Alex's age, and he had a large pouf of curly brown hair tied in a ponytail. As he got closer, Alexander noticed the freckles came into view. God, the freckles. He was, to put it simply, adorable.  
"Hey, Washington. Is this the new guy?" He plopped his luggage on the bed next to Alexander's. "What's your name, new guy?"  
"Hurricane," Alex said, holding out his hand to shake. Turtle took it, smiling.  
"Okay... Hurricane. I'd better show you around camp. Come on, man. Goodbye, Washington." Turtle grabbed Alex's wrist and led him out of the tent, winding around the paths and trees.  
"This is the dining hall. Pretty standard, really. There's a milk machine, though, so that's nice. If we go to the right, that leads us to the beach. I'm the lifeguard-slash waterfront director, so if I'm not at the campsite or the dining hall I'll probably be here. If you go up that hill, that leads you to the showerhouse and the crafts cabin. You won't need to use the showerhouse because we counselors have our own. The crafts cabin, however, you might find more use for because it's run by Zeus, who's a great guy."  
"How long have you been working here?" Alexander asked with a chuckle. "It seems like you know this place like the back of your hand."  
Turtle laughed. "I pretty much do. I'm pretty sure the freckles on my hand align to be a map of the camp if you connect the dots." Alex laughed at that one. "I've been working here for three years, but I went to camp here for seven years prior to getting a job as a counselor here."  
Turtle, not taking breaks, stood up from the rock dragged him down a hill towards more of the camp. "Over here is the archery range where Eiffel works. Past that is the pavilion, where you'll work on P-Speech."  
Alexander stopped. "What the fuck is P-Speech?"  
Turtle laughed. "Public Speaking. That's what we all call it. You're going to want to tone down the language around the younger kids, though. The high schoolers don't care. Go nuts around them. Anyway, Blue works for singing on the pavilion, so you'll cross paths often. You'll probably work on creative writing in the crafts cabin, since it's like, the only place in this camp with tables. Other than that, that's really all you need to know."  
Alexander sat down on a nearby rock. "This is a lot of information to take in, Turtle."  
Turtle sat down next to him. "Please, don't call me Turtle when we're alone. I'm John Laurens."  
Alex smiled. "I like that. I'm Alexander Hamilton. Do the other counselors know your name?"  
"I would love to tell you that you're special and all, but yeah. We all know each other's names. We just can't use them around campers." He looked down at the ground. "Alexander Hamilton. I like it."

 

Alex was put in charge of a group of high schoolers with Laurens. He thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but then Camilla showed up.  
They were sitting on the picnic tables in the middle of the campsite, waiting for the campers to arrive and put their stuff in their tents. John chatted idly with Alex, occasionally stopping to say hello to a camper he had seen before. In the middle of a conversation about their jobs, Camilla burst into camp.  
"Hey! Hamilton!" Alex put his head in his hands, sighing.  
"There goes my fake name," he muttered.  
"Alexander! A-Ham!" Camilla continued to jump and wave to get his attention.  
Alex brought his head up. "Hey, Cam. Is that my new name now? A-Ham?" Laurens chuckled beside him.  
Camilla grinned wickedly. "If you want it to be, sure."  
"Well, now everybody in North America knows your name now, so I would just go with A-Ham. It's not so bad." John said. "I was never a big fan of Hurricane anyway."  
Cam laughed. "My work here is done," she said with laugh. "I'm gonna go put my stuff in my tent."  
Laurens patted Alexander's shoulder. "Somebody from your school?"  
"Unfortunately."  
John laughed, a full-body guffaw that was so infectious you couldn't help but laugh with him. "She seems like an interesting person."  
Alex groaned. "Tell me about it."  
Finally, the campers were all settled in. Laurens called them out of their tents and sat them down in a semicircle around their picnic table. "Hello! I'm so excited to be working with you all this year. My name is Turtle, and this is... A-Ham." Cam snickered and Alex sighed in defeat. "He'll be directing creative writing and P-Speech this year. I am still waterfront director. Wanna say a few words, A-Ham?"  
There were scattered giggles throughout the campers. Clearly, they didn't think much of new counselors. Alex stood on the table, trying not to fall off.  
"Hey, everybody. As you now know, I'm A-Ham. Cam, could I get a beat?" In a heartbeat, Camilla's face lit up with realization of what was happening. In the middle of a sea of high schoolers, she started beatboxing. Nervous snickers snickers turned to shock as Alex swayed to the beat, then started to rap.  
Laurens looked up in utter shock, as well as all of the other campers. Camilla kept going, as she had seen enough of Alex's bizarre teaching methods in class. He had a certain penchant for rapping Shakespeare, and often Cam was called to the front of the class to beatbox for him, usually while reading along on a school-issued book of the play.  
Alexander took a pause in Camilla's beat to pick up a stick from the ground, finish his rap, and drop the stick like a microphone into the hands of John Laurens. After a dramatic bow, Alexander sat down next to Laurens again on the picnic table.  
John, along with the rest of the campers, looked in utter awe of the new counselor. Laurens leaned into Alex. "What the hell, Alexander," he whispered. "Way to make a first impression." Alex grinned smugly. "Speaking of first impressions, there's a counselor get-together in the staff house tonight. There's always free donuts-you should go."  
"I'd need to write another rap for the counselors... but I think I'll be able to handle it."  
John snorted. "You're too much, man. But I guess I'm a bit too much too. I've got a good feeling about you, A-Ham."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton doesn't know how to use a clock and Thomas Jefferson doesn't know how to use a gun.

Alexander definitely did not almost miss the counselor meeting writing about John in his journal. He absolutely did not write three pages about his hair and freckles and smile before his lantern went out. "Fuck you, solar powered lanterns!" He yelled, throwing the small lamp at the canvas wall of the tent. John Laurens burst into the tent, looking confused. 

"Alexander? What are you doing? I thought you were at the meeting."

Alex jumped up, quickly hiding his journal under the covers of his bed. "Oh shit, the meeting. Why aren't you there?"

"I was just making sure the kids were all in bed. I was just about to head down. Do you want to come with me? After all, the buddy system has never failed me before."

Laurens reached out a hand and   
pulled Alex out of the tent, ignoring the blush spreading down his cheeks. "I just hope there are donuts left."

 

The counselor meeting was in full swing by the time the two men got there, their hands still linked unknowingly. John flushed bright red and let go of Alex's hand to push open the rough-hewn wooden doors of the staff building. There was a fire crackling in the corner, and a bunch of around college-age adults lounging and chatting on worn leather couches with flannel blankets thrown haphazardly across them. A large folding card table was piled high with boxes of donuts, and people clumped around the table like it was a lifeboat in a stormy ocean.

Hamilton and Laurens made their way into the fray of people, John smiling and talking with older counselors and Alex hanging behind. 

While John was chatting excitedly with another counselor about something or other, Alexander was cornered by a tall woman with a full head of curly brown hair and a light pink leather jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans. "I'm Angelica Schuyler. Angel, in front of the kids. Nice to meet you. A-Ham, right?"

He nodded. "Where did you here about me?" 

Angelica laughed. "We've all heard about you. After that rapping stunt you pulled, you certainly made a mark in the Camp Schuyler history books."

Alexander paused. "Wait... Schuyler. You own this camp?"

Angelica looked bashful. "My dad. He's not the director, but he owns the land. I have two other sisters working here too. Eliza should- hey! Eliza! Over here!" A small Asian-looking woman in light blue overalls. "My sister, Blue."

Blue curtsied, which looked a little strange in pants. "Elizabeth Schuyler. Pleasure to meet you, A-Ham."

Alex grinned flirtily. "If it takes rapping my ass off in front of twenty teenagers to meet you, it will have been worth it." 

Angelica laughed and winked at Alex. "I'll leave you to it!"

Eliza grabbed a powdered donut from the table, bit into it, and showered herself in powdered sugar. "Oh shit. I'd better clean this up. See you at the pavilion tomorrow, A-Ham. I wish you best of luck with P-Speech." She waved at Alex, hurrying off to the bathroom.

Laurens grabbed Alex by the shoulder. "I saw you chatting with the Schuyler sisters. Looking for a rich girlfriend for the summer?"

Alex chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"You've got to know. They told you about their dad, right?" John asked in disbelief. "They're loaded. The perfect girlfriend for a poor college graduate."

Alexander smiled. "Well, I am sharing the pavilion with Blue for P-Speech."

"Angelica helps out creative writing sometimes. Probably not so much now that you're here, but you've got a chance. The youngest, Peggy, is the nurse. You probably won't see her that often."

Alex rubbed his hands together. "I can work with that."

"Don't you dare hook up with one and just dump her, I promise it gets really awkward to have an ex as your coworker."

Alexander snorted. "I don't need to know about your hookups, John."

"Who did John hook up with?" A booming voice from behind them alerted them to the presence of two men standing by. 

"Chill, Herc, it was two years ago. Alexander, the big one is Hercules Mulligan, AKA Zeus the crafts instructor. The scrawny French one is Lafayette."

The smaller man, Lafayette, shoved John playfully. "Who're you calling scrawny, you little pixie?" He bowed dramatically and kissed the back of Alexander's hand. "Eiffel the archery instructor. Nice to meet you."

Hercules took a donut from the table. "Who's the newbie, Laurens?"

Lafayette scoffed. "You haven't heard about this guy? I swear, the whole continent has heard about my main man, A-Ham."

Alexander blushed. "It wasn't a big deal, guys. I swear, I've been here a few hours and everybody knows me. It's kind of draining, honestly."

Lafayette fluffed his poufy ponytail. "Fame has its downsides. How you say... deal with it."

"Well, I don't mind," Hercules said. "I'll just get to know you the old-fashioned way." 

 

Laurens and Alexander stumbled back to their tent, bleary-eyed and exhausted. The camper tents were quiet except for the occasional snore or mumble, but Alex was talking a mile a minute. John was listening intently to everything Alexander was saying, nodding and chatting along. To anyone looking from the outside, they probably looked like a couple of drunks stumbling back to their car. 

Alex pushed open the fabric of the tent, collapsing on his bed. John followed suit, tucking in his bug netting and pulling off his shirt.

Alexander crawled into his sleeping bag and tried to ignore John lying shirtless in the bed next to his. "God, what time is it?"

John threw the cover of his sleeping bag off, holding his watch above his head and trying to read the face in the sallow moonlight. "About two."

"Do the counselors usually stay up until two in the morning?"

John laughed. "I wish."

"I still have to wake up at seven for P-Speech. That's going to be fun."

John rolled over, tucking himself backing into his sleeping bag. "You'd better get some rest now when you can, A-Ham. I'm sure the P-Speech kids wouldn't be so happy if their counselor was falling asleep in the middle of the day. G'night, Alexander."

Alex tried to sleep, he really did. 

 

Waking up for P-Speech was hell. John woke up Alex by dropping a plate of sausage on his chest.

"What the hell was that?" Alexander wheezed, the plate tipping dangerously towards the floor. 

John had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. "You missed breakfast. I thought you might've wanted to sleep in. I hope you're not a vegetarian. You have ten minutes to get to P-Speech, by the way."

Alex fell out of his bed. "What the fuck?" He grabbed his clothes and a sausage and ran out the door, not even bothering to put shoes on. 

John laughed as the voice of Alexander Hamilton rang out in the distance. "This is damn good sausage, man!" 

Alexander showed up at the pavilion ten minutes late. The teenagers sitting on the logs carefully arranged in a semicircle all turned to stare accusingly at their new instructor, who had his unbrushed hair in a loose ponytail and was wearing a large wet t-shirt embellished with a mathematical equation coming out to "I 8 sum pi".

Blue looked up from her class on the other side of the pavilion. "Really, A-Ham? It's your first day."

Alex sighed. "I know, I know." He turned to address the kids. "What do you guys know about public speaking?"

"Do you know anything about public speaking?" One of the kids asked from the back of the pavilion. "Or do you just like t-shirts with stupid math puns?"

Alexander rubbed his temple. "I get why everybody wished me luck with you kids," he mumbled. "Alright, guys. I want everybody to pick a partner. It doesn't matter who, just find someone." The kids muttered and talked as they found their friends and stood next to them, waiting for the next instruction. "Now choose a letter, A or B. Does everybody have one? Okay. A is loyalists. B is patriot. Argue the fairness or unfairness of the many acts passed by the British government over the course of the revolution using only language a colonist would use. Ready? Go!"

Most kids looked around in confusion. Some whispered to their friends, some stood and thought about colonial language. One group, however, started right up.  
"You must heed not the rabble who scream revolution, my friend," one boy said. "They have not your interests at heart!"

"Why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea?" The girl shot back at him. 

"Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution!" The boy argued, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"MY DOG SPEAKS MORE ELOQUENTLY THAN THEE!"

The pavilion was silenced. Even Blue's class looked over at the red-faced girl standing on the log. Somebody started clapping. Soon, the entire pavilion was clapping and whistling as the girl bowed and blew kisses at her audience.

"Well, I'm glad to see someone took my lesson plan seriously," Alexander said with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Jared White," the boy said.

"Natasha Scampoli," the girl said with a flourish, hopping down from the podium. "I don't actually have a dog, I would like you to know." The class laughed.

"Well, Natasha-"

"Call me Nat," Natasha interrupted. "Natasha makes me sound like a PTA mom."

"Well, I guess that's fair. Okay. Nat and Jared, try to explain to the class your use of language."

"Try not to bore us to death, man!" Cam yelled from her log. 

Nat giggled. "Well, since it's modern English, it's really not that different. You just have to keep in mind the difference in words you would be using."

"It's like a British accent," Jared interjected. "It's not enough to just do the accent, you also have to call chips crisps and elevators lifts."

Alex clapped his hands together. "Alright. With that in mind, everybody try and redo that activity. Actually try this time, okay guys?" The class mumbled a vague response. "Ready? Go!"

The pavilion was filled with noise as kids argued and shouted and laughed with each other. One girl ended up getting hit in the head with a metal water bottle due to the intensity of her argument.

"Hey, A-Ham?" The girl asked, walking up to Alexander and running her temple. "My logic was too sound and Sam hit me in the head with a water bottle. Can you help me find the nurse?"

Alex, like a responsible adult, brought the girl, Fiona, to the nurse's office, where Peggy (or Junior) immediately told her to lie down with some ice for thirty minutes. "Sorry, A-Ham," she said, ushering him to a seat outside of the health lodge, "but you have to stay with her. Blue's at the pavilion, right? She can supervise your group."

Alexander sat down in the small wooden chairs with a frown. Soon, another man joined him. "Hey, A-Ham. Fancy meeting you here." Alex looked up to the smiling face of John Laurens sitting with a strip of cloth wrapped around his upper arm.

"God, Turtle. What happened?" 

He hissed as he pressed a hand onto the bandage, spots of red coming up from underneath. "That asshole Mac down at the rifle range. I go up to go to the bathroom, and that dick shoots me in the arm."

Alex gaped. "Oh, my god. Did he get fired?"

John laughed darkly. "Of course not. Who would want to fire the amazing Thomas Jefferson? He's been working at this camp for longer than any of us. He wouldn't have been fired even if he had shot me in the heart. God, I hate that guy."

Alexander grimaced. "Well, I do too."

"I appreciate the effort," John said with a snort. "Why are you here?"

"One of my kids was hit in the head with a water bottle. It turns out the fairness of the Townshend Acts is still a hot-button issue, even three hundred years later."

John leaned back and an easy smile formed on his face. "I don't know what type of mood I would be in if you weren't here, A-Ham. Somehow, even getting shot in the shoulder is more endurable with you by my side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy! Nothing really to say. Lams may or may not happen soon. No promises.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex realizes some stuff about his life.

“Yo! A-Ham!”

Alexander and Fiona were walking back to the pavilion, John Laurens in tow. “Eeeyy, Turtle! What are you doing here?” Cam shouted, causing Blue to rest her head on her podium in resignation.

“He got shot in the arm. Turtle’s just going to chill here with us until we go back to our campsite, okay?” Alexander stepped up to his podium and turned to Eliza. “What did they get done?”

“Nothing,” she wailed softly. “Absolutely nothing. I swear, this class is spawned from satan.” 

“I can agree to that,” Turtle said. “The kids you see in P-Speech never change.”

Alex laughed. “Were you in P-Speech?”

“Hell yeah.” Alex put up his hand for a high five, and John reciprocated. “Ow, no. I'm sorry, but getting shot in the arm really hinders your high-giving abilities.” 

“I can understand.” Alexander raised an arm, silencing the class. In the corner, Blue muttered “oh, thank god.” “We have thirty more minutes left of this block before we go to creative writing. Why don't you just pair up and try to… create a short monologue about anything you feel passionate about. We can try and perform a few afterwards. Cool?” The kids nodded and paired up with their friends, and soon the pavilion was filled with the noise of teenagers talking and arguing about what to speak about. Blue had regained control of her class and they were busy singing some warm-up song about tuna.

Alex walked over to where John was sitting on a log and joined him. “I have to say, im pretty good at this counselor thing.” 

John snickered. “You're better than asshole Mac, if that's what you mean.”

“I can't believe him.” Alex leaned his head on John’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Can you wake me up in half an hour? Thanks.” John didn't move, careful to not wake up Alexander and ruin the moment. God, it was a good moment.

Across the pavilion, Nat and her friend Claire smiled wickedly. “I think I figured out what we can talk about,” Nat said with a grin. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Claire nodded and folded her hands together. “Let’s do this thing.”

Fifteen minutes later, Alex was awake and the kids had all created speeches. Two kids made a speech on why cats were better than dogs. Two other kids wrote a speech about why toast was the ultimate breakfast food.

“Our speech is on love,” Claire said, standing at the front of the pavilion at the podium with a knowing grin on her face. “Specifically, the clues you can find to figure out if two people are in love. Nat, take it away.” She gave a flourishing gesture to Natalie, who stepped onto the podium and cleared her throat dramatically.

“There are many things that can clue a hidden romance between friends. We have found five of them and listed them for your efficiency.” Nat shifted in the podium, folding her hands demurely and looking out on her audience with an air of sophistication. “Number 1: unnecessary contact. This could be anything from sitting too close together to something more physical like holding hands or resting a head on a shoulder or lap. Really, an excess of physical contact that isn't needed in that situation.”

Behind the two girls, Alexander dropped his hands from playing with John’s hair and the two men scooted away from each other. John gave Alex a meaningful look and Alexander held the gaze. 

Nat went on. “Number 2: eye contact. Now, eye contact by itself isn't necessarily romantic, but prolonged eye contact with meaning behind it holds a little more weight than just a look. Many times, this look conveys emotion or meaning that can be understood by the other person, a connection that is not uncommon in siblings, long-time friends, or lovers.”

John dropped his eyes to his lap. Alexander looked the other way, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Number 3: strange statements. This is pretty self-explanatory. A statement that is bizarre in most contexts and implies sexual or romantic undertones.” Alex and John breathed a sigh of relief. At least that one didn't apply to them. Maybe I don't like him, Alex thought, but his brain immediately discredited the statement. 

“Okay, guys,”Alexander said hastily, receiving a incredulous and decidedly smug look from Nat and Claire. “It's time for us to go back to our campsite before we head out to creative writing. Does anybody remember where our campsite is? Because I don't.”

“You're a mess, A-Ham,” John said, linking his good arm through Alex’s. “Come on. It's this way.”

 

There were fifteen minutes of downtime between P-Speech and creative writing. Now, this was great for the kids, who had prepared enough to bring books or games with them. However, Alexander had brought nothing in terms of entertainment besides his journal.

John had better prepared for the times between activities. He had removed his shirt as a preemptive strike against the sweltering heat of the summer, and he was lying on his side reading a book. 

“So…” Alex said, forcing his eyes down on his journal. “What book are you reading?”

“Farenheit 451,” John replied. “It's a book about a future world where-”

“No way!” Alexander said, sitting up in his bed. “I love that book! The artistry of the language and the way Ray Bradbury creates a futuristic world that's so immersive with the qualities of our own is just brilliant.” Alex looked up at John, who had sat up and was facing him. Alexander’s eyes quickly took in the sight before him, faltering his speech. “Yeah. Um… it’s good.”

John laughed and rolled back over onto his side, facing away from Alex. “Okay, A-Ham. I'll talk to Washington about a book club.” 

Alexander picked up his pen and scratched out the last sentence he had written. “I've met many people during my first few days of being a counselor,” the journal now read in his slanted, cramped writing. “And I am hopelessly in love with John Laurens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. It was just such a good ending that I had to end it there. 
> 
> If you want, you can follow me on Tumblr at alexanderthebisexual for more gay founding fathers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of John's feelings and some backstory.

John Laurens was, without a doubt, royally fucked. The last time he had anything more than a little crush on someone was two years ago, where he was a first-year counselor with a penchant for canoeing and an attraction to boys. Of course, the secret got out and his dad was just about ready to ship him back to South Carolina and never let him look at the words “camp” or “Schuyler” ever again. After that debacle, John vowed never to admit his feelings to another man ever again. He was raised by suffering in silence; his family’s idea of “manners” was to bite your tongue and show people what they want to see. It's so damn cliche, he thought, sitting on the side of the lake, watching the kids swim and canoe from the lifeguard chair. It's so goddamn cliche, but here I am, head over heels for Alexander. 

“Turtle!” One girl yelled, running up to the lifeguard chair with a giant gap-toothed smile. John carefully navigated down from the chair, careful not to hurt his arm further. “I made you a bracelet,” the girl said, holding out the small friendship bracelet in her grubby hands.

“Thanks, Sandy,” he said, holding out his wrist for her to tie it on. 

Sandy shook her head, her curly ponytail smacking her in the face every time she moved her head. “You have too many bracelets on that hand, Turtle.” He looked down at his wrist, which was almost impossible to see under the countless amounts of colored friendship bracelets given through years of being a counselor. “Put it on your other hand instead, to even it out.”

Obliging, John stuck out his wrist and Sandy tied it on. “Be careful, Sandy. Try not to pull my arm too much. I got hurt the other day.”

He looked down at the bracelet Sandy was tying on his wrist. It was a thin embroidery-floss bracelet with all the colors of the rainbow in a striped pattern. “It's rainbow because rainbows are my favorite. Do you like it, Turtle?”

John smiled and turned the bracelet through his fingers. To the ten-year-old, it might have just been a colorful bracelet, but to him it would always have a double meaning. A hidden ‘fuck you’ to his father, if you will. “I love it, Sandy. Thank you.”

Sandy grinned widely and skipped away. “Anything for my favorite counselor. Bye, Turtle!”

John smiled and turned away from the water, his heart (to the chagrin of his mind) lifting as he saw Alexander sitting on a picnic table, hunched over his notebook and writing furiously. He lifted his head from the pages of the book, squinting against the sun before diving back in, his back curling over as the sun beat down on his black hair. 

John snatched a green baseball cap embossed with the logo of Camp Schuyler from the lifeguard chair, where it hung waiting for someone to use it. He walked over to Alexander and fit it over his head. Alex looked up quickly, messily closing his book in surprise before John could get a peek at what he was writing. He visibly relaxed when he noticed who was standing next to him and smiled up at John.

“It looked like you needed a hat,” John said, smiling at Alex, his stomach churning. “So I brought you one. What're you doing?”

Alex opened his book to one of the earlier pages. His handwriting was cramped and slanted, like he was trying to jam as many words on the page as he could; and by the amount of writing in the book, he was. “Just writing. Writing about my day, writing stories, really anything.”

“Like a diary?”

Alex flushed. “It's a journal,” he muttered. “It's not like I start every entry with ‘September 1st, 1989. Dear diary, Kurt was mean to me today. I cried for three hours.’” He said in a sing-song voice. 

“God, A-Ham. I shouldn't have asked.”

“No, it's okay,” Alex said hurriedly. “I shouldn't have snapped at you. Sit with me?” 

John smiled, a slight red staining his face. “Sure.” He sat down on the table next to Alexander, and whenever Alex’s constantly moving legs bumped against his, a chill ran down his spine. Holy shit, John thought. I'm in this love thing deeper than I thought. 

“What's this?” Alex asked, snapping John out of his thoughts. He was pointing at John’s bracelet. 

John smiled knowingly. “A friendship bracelet. Sandy gave it to me.” 

“Sandy’s pretty smart,” Alex said dreamily. “I like it.” 

What the hell does he mean, “Sandy’s pretty smart?” does he know I'm gay? Oh god, he knows I'm gay.

“How about you read me some of the stuff in your journal?” John asked, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Alexander looked skeptical. “Come on, I won't judge!”

Alex shrugged and opened up to a page, flinched, and turned to another. “There are few things more poetic than the concept of our own inevitable demise. The melancholy of the universe affects us just as gravity does. The myriad of opportunity laid out for us goes unnoticed in the eyes of our humanity, and one misstep could unravel the delicate weave of nature. We have tried time and time again to become masters of our own fates but history has proven that we are as much a subject to the iron fist of death as we hope not to be.” Alexander looked up from his notebook with an expectant look on his face. 

“Shit, man. That's deep. Also sort of fucked up, but I'm going to go with deep.”

Alex laughed. “That seems like the popular answer.”

“I liked it. It was very well written. To be honest, I didn't know what half of those words meant.” Damn, he's going to think I'm stupid. “Oh, John, how could you not know what ‘myriad’ means? Everybody knows what ‘myriad’ means!”

“Yeah, well neither did any of my college professors. You're not alone.” Oh, thank god. Alexander stood up and slid the notebook into a pocket in his jacket. “I need to go. I need to get the kids to P-Speech and I spent way too much time talking to you. It was nice, though.”

“Anytime, A-Ham,” John said to a retreating Alexander, climbing up on the lifeguard chair once again. “That's gonna mess me up for days.”

Alex turned around, tipped his purple baseball cap, and gave threw him a wink. John quickly turned towards the beach so that no one could see him blushing.

 

Alexander’s journal had taken a turn for the worse. Before camp, before John Laurens, it had been a relative spread of topics. Food, poetry, politics, recounts of the day, politics, short story, book review. Now, it seemed more like John, John, John, politics, John, John, John, and John.

He was in too deep.

Alexander was embarrassed of himself. This was a schoolgirl crush, the kind where initials are drawn in hearts and notes from secret admirers are slipped in lockers. The kind that never ends well.

 

The dining hall at dinner was absolutely chaotic. This was nothing new, John had assured him, but it was overwhelming even to someone living in New York City for most of their life. 

There were tables set up around the dining hall so that the counselor would sit with the kids in their campsite. That meant Alexander was stuck with the P-Speech kids. 

“Hey! Turtle! Sit with us!” One boy, Jackson, called from the table, waving his arms maniacally. 

Turtle navigated the busy dining hall towards Alex’s table. He put down his tray next to Alexander and leaned his arms on Alex’s shoulders. “Sup, A-Ham. I don't have a chair.” 

“Well, we have to rectify that, don't we. Cam, can you get a chair?” 

Camilla saluted and stood up, sticking a slice of pizza in her mouth before walking over to the stack of chairs in the corner. “Of course, captain.”

Turtle laughed. “They call you ‘captain’? You've been here for three days!” He sat down in the chair Cam had pulled up and scooted the chair closer to Alex’s, ignoring the horrific screeching sound the chair made as its legs dragged across the linoleum.

“No, that's just Cam,” Alex said, stealing a fry off of John’s tray. “She called me ‘captain’ even when I went by Mr. Hamilton in my English class.”

“I never liked Mr. Hamilton,” Cam said, her mouth full of pizza. “A-Ham is something I can get behind.” 

“You were a teacher?” Turtle asked, retaliating and stealing a chip from Alex’s tray. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah,” Alexander said. “Continental High School. New York.”

“No way!” John said with a laugh. “That's where I live. My apartment’s just a few blocks from Continental.”

“What job do you have? That's a really nice neighborhood.” 

“Old money. I work at a war museum. It's not the best pay, but I enjoy it and my family has enough money for it not to be an issue.”

Alex leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Wow. If I weren't an orphan, you know?”

“You're an orphan?” John asked, leaning on his hands and looking at Alexander. “Really?”

“There are a lot of things you don't know about me.”

Nat snorted. “Stop flirting, guys. We're trying to eat here.”

John and Alexander blushed furiously while Cam cackled into her pizza. “A-Ham,” she wheezed, “you look like an angry tomato!”

“Believe it or not, I've heard that before,” Alexander said, fighting his blush by taking a bite of his sandwich. “Ms. Jones back at Continental came up with some pretty good insults.”

“Do you miss Continental?” Jared asked across the table.

Cam snickered. “God knows I don't.”

“Hell no,” Alex said, laughing and taking a handful of chips. “I get free food here.” 

 

“Do you actually miss Continental?” John asked, leaning on his back on Alexander’s bed. It was night, and the two counselors were talking as the kids got ready for bed. “I’m sure the pay was good, and you didn't have dickbag Mac shooting people left and right.” 

“No, not at all,” Alex said, his pen ghosting across the surface of his notebook, making thin lines on the corner of the page. “The salary was shit, the building was trash, and the teachers were all either little old ladies or bitches.”

John sat up. “I’m sure the kids liked you,” he said softly. “How couldn't they?”

Alex dipped his head, scribbling in his journal. “I could kiss him right now,” the journal read. “I could lean in and kiss him. Then, of course, he would request to move and I would have to spend the rest of the summer with dickbag Mac.”

“I don't know,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the page. Alexander was afraid that if he looked up, all of his impulse control would dissolve. Instead, he wrote. “They didn't take me seriously. The kids on the debate team were only there for the credit and the kids in English class didn't care at all.”

John got up, the bed squeaking under his weight. “That sucks. At least P-Speech is better, right?”

Alex snorted. “Opposite sides of the spectrum, John.” He put down his journal and leaned back on his bed, staring up at the patched canvas ceiling of the tent. “You're comparing apples to oranges.” 

“I guess,” John said with a yawn. “I wouldn't want to deal with Cam at school or camp. I can't imagine having her year round.”

“She's not too bad,” Alex said, rolling over in his sleeping bag. “Goodnight, John.”

“G’night, Alexander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyyyy! 'Tis I. I love reading your comments, guys; keep up the good work! I've tried some stuff from John's perspective this time.   
> You can always follow me on tumblr at alexanderthebisexual


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hurricane came and devestation reigned.

It was a dark and stormy morning. Alexander woke up at three in the morning to a large clap of thunder along with the rest of the camp. Some girl in one of the other tents shrieked. 

John sat up, bleary eyed and scared. “What was that?” He muttered, looking around the tent.

“Just some thunder,” Alex said, switching on his lamp and letting the soft light fill the small tent. “It'll probably go away soon.” A thunderclap shattered the soft pattering of the rain, causing both men to jump. “On second thought, maybe it won't.”

“Should we go check on the kids?” John said, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling on a rain jacket. He pushed open the tent flap and stuck his head out into the rain. John pulled his head back into the tent, his hair matted down and soaked with water. “You know what? I think they'll be able to make it until morning.”

Alexander fell back onto his bed with a thump. “Well, I'm not going to be able to sleep. I fucking hate storms.” He grabbed his journal and a pen. A clap of thunder shook the sky and Alex started furiously clicking the pen, his breathing faltering and speeding up. He closed his eyes, mashing the end of the pen against his chest, the quick clicking breaking the noise of the rain. 

John put up with this for roughly thirty seconds. “Alex. Stop.”

Alexander seemed to snap back to reality and threw the pen down at his feet. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry sorry. I just… I get tense during storms.”

John laughed. “I can tell. Do you think the kids’ll be able to sleep over this noise?” 

Alex chuckled uneasily. “Definitely not. At least I have trauma to back up my fear of storms, but if you're awake then it's a safe bet everyone else is.” He looked at his hands, jumping slightly as another thunderclap struck the night. 

John could tell there was nothing he could do. Alexander had said he had trauma, but John wasn't in any sort of position to investigate Alexander’s baggage. The only thing that he could do was try to cheer him up, to see Alex’s confident and knowing smile in the dim light of the camping lantern. “Oh, god. Does that mean Thomas Jefferson is awake too? I would hate for him to be able to escape the tent before a bolt of lightning gets rid of him.”

Alexander laughed and grabbed his journal. “Just let me be angsty in peace, man.”

“Never.” John took one last glance at Alex’s smile before turning over and pulling the sleeping bag over himself. “Try and sleep, okay?”

Alex smiled softly down at his journal. “Okay.”

 

By breakfast time, the rain had let up just enough for the kids and their respective counselors to go darting through the muddy paths and into the dining hall, their feet tracking dirt inside and their raincoats dripping. Alex sat with John and the P-Speech kids like they did every morning, chatting aimlessly and trying to ignore the howling wind and the never ending thrum of the rain on the roof.

Halfway through breakfast, John got a text. Every kid immediately turned to the sound of the text tone, and John flushed and pulled out his phone. With a quick look at the screen, he stood up, pulled on his jacket, and motioned for Alexander to follow him to a quiet corner in the room. “We need to lock up the waterfront. It's gonna be one hell of a storm and we don't want all of the stuff flying everywhere. Normally, I'd ask someone who’s been here longer, but since you've watched me pack up the waterfront every day since you got here I think I trust you.”

“What about the kids?” Alex asked, motioning back towards the table where Fiona seemed to be regaling some sort of story involving a lot of hand waving and facial expressions. 

“They're going to stay here anyway. It's too rainy to do anything, so they're going to stay here for an indoor games day.”

Alex nodded. “Okay. Let me just get my stuff on and tell the kids what's happening.”

John grinned, saluted, and sat down on one of the empty chairs around a table. “Godspeed, my friend.”

Alexander walked back to the table and started getting his coat on when Camilla started laughing. “What's so funny, Cam?”

She grinned wickedly. “Where're you going with Turtle?” 

“We’re going to go-”

“Snog in the counselor’s cabin?” Nat interjected with a cackle.

Alex flushed. “We need to lock up the waterfront so that your ungrateful asses don't get smacked across the head with a canoe.” 

Jared snickered. “Sure.” Alex shot him a glare and started to leave. “We're going to report you for swearing at us!”

John got up and linked arms with Alexander. “Ready to go face the weather?”

Alex sighed. “You're really not helping my case, Turtle.”

 

The walk to the waterfront was just as expected; terrifying. The rain was coming down in sheets and the mud was thicker than glue. Walking through the muddy paths were like walking on a mixture of quicksand and a slip-and-slide, and Alexander ended up falling multiple times. John was slightly more experienced at navigating the muddy paths, but he was bearing thick clouds of dirt in his hair and streaks of muddy handprints on his clothes from where Alexander tried helplessly to grab onto his rain jacket. What should've been a three-minute walk ended up taking more than ten minutes. 

“Monsieur A-Ham! Turtle!”

They both turned around to see a waterlogged Lafayette making his way towards them. “Why don't I get a title?” John asked with a laugh. 

“You need to earn the ‘Monsier’, Turtle.” Lafayette slid through the mud up to the two, shaking the water droplets out of his hair. 

“What are you doing? I can't imagine any possible scenario when you would willingly step away from a future game of trivia,” Alex said, laughing as he tripped and stumbled before John caught his shoulders.

Lafayette dramatically swept a hand over his brow. “Alas, the reaches of your imagination can't even fathom the horrors I must face instead of enjoying a nice game of trivia.” John snickered. “I have to go lock up the archery range. It would suck to have paddles flying everywhere, but arrows would be even worse.”

John laughed and playfully shoved Lafayette in the arm, sending him skidding through the mud with a splash. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “that means I have to spend the time that takes with that awful Mac. He went up early, something about getting the rifles inside before they got to damaged by the rain. Personally, I don't know and I don't care.” 

“Well, I don't pity you,” John said, throwing an arm around Alex’s shoulders and almost knocking the two of them over. “I get to hang out with my main man A-Ham while we suffer.”

Lafayette laughed. “Suffering. Sure.” He turned up a small path and threw a salute to the other men. “See you later, guys.”

Alex and John walked in silence the rest of the way to the waterfront. When they got there, however, there was little opportunity for silence. The sky was thick with black churning clouds and the normally docile beach was tearing at the shore. Already all of the life jackets had flown off of their racks and were being scattered about like tumbleweed in the desert.

“Holy shit,” John said under his breath. “A-Ham, get the life jackets.” Alexander nodded and ran off, chasing the foam jackets across the beach like some convoluted game of cat-and-mouse. 

John started wrestling with the canoes, trying to get them off of the racks they were in and inside the waterfront building. Soon, however, his injured arm got in the way of this endeavor. “Goddamnit, stupid fucking Mac! A-Ham! I need a hand here!”

Alex ran over, grabbing the half of the canoe dragging on the ground and carrying it into the shed with John. After about ten minutes of this, all of the canoes were in the shed. Alexander high-fived John. “Good job, man.” John didn't respond. “What’re you looking at?”

John was staring out at the dark churning water and the thick clouds rolling overhead. His and Alex’s hair was being whipped around wildly by the wind. Alex followed John’s line of sight, looking out on the water. “Holy shit,” he said, catching the attention of John. “It's a hurricane.”

John leapt into action immediately. He grabbed Alexander’s arms, pulling out his phone. “Are you sure?” Alex nodded soberly. John called the phone in the dining hall from his cell, pulling Alex by his wrist and cursing under his breath.

“Yeah. There's a hurricane. Damn it, Washington, there's a hurricane coming.” John shoved Alex into a small building on a hill overlooking the waterfront before getting in himself and slamming the door. He hung up the phone and slid down the wall, closing his eyes and sighing. “It's too bad out there to walk back to the dining hall, so we're going to have to stick it out in here. But hey, that's what the pond shelter is for, right Alex?” He looked over to Alexander, who had his head in his hands. “Alex?”

Alexander jumped as a crack of thunder shook the small building. “I'm… fine. I’m fine. Don't worry about me.”

John put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “No, you're not. What's wrong?” Alex shrugged it off.

“I'm fine, I swear. I'm Alexander Hamilton. I've faced worse.” 

John looked skeptical. “Alright, fine. I'm going to build a fire if the wood isn't too soaked to light. That cool?” 

Alex shrugged. “Sure.”

John slowly piled the logs into the small fireplace in the corner of the pond shelter. Soon, there was a small fire crackling merrily, lighting the cabin until it was awash with the warm glow of the fire. Alex sat shivering in the corner with his eyes closed, jumping whenever thunder or lightning struck. John knelt down next to him, laying a hand on Alex’s knee. Alexander flinched at the touch, but looked up at John with his face streaked with water from his hair.

“You wanna sit by the fire? It's a lot warmer over there.” Alex nodded and let out a deep sigh. 

“Thank you, John.”

John smiled. “No problem.”

Just then, the door to the pond shelter swung open dramatically just as a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Two sopping wet figures stomped into the room, the fire illuminating their faces.

“Well that was unnecessarily dramatic and cliche,” John said and Alexander gave a weak laugh. “Who stumbles upon our humble abode?”

The two figures became clear as they stepped into the light. Lafayette was there, his ponytail matted and sopping wet. Behind him was a taller man with a mane of wet hair and a hideous magenta coat. 

“Hey, Thomas. What a nice surprise to see you again, especially since the last time I saw you you shot me in the fucking arm.”

“Calm down, John,” the man said in a slow southern drawl. “Watch your language. I told you, it was an accident.”

Alexander scoffed. “This is Thomas Jefferson? The almighty Thomas Jefferson?”

Thomas flipped his hair, which was quite anticlimactic as it all stuck to his face with the water. “What have you heard about me?” He said with a wink. “I like to be up to date on the gossip.”

A gust of wind blew the fire out and Lafayette wrestled the doors closed. “I think we were the only ones out there, so I'll lock the door just in case. If you hear knocking, don't open the door. There’re rumors of ghosts in these woods.”

Alex managed a small chuckle. “You’re crazy, Laf.”

“Vous ne m'appellerez pas fou quand les fantômes vous obtiennent, Alexander.” Alex snickered and John looked on in confusion.

“There's no such thing as ghosts, Lafayette,” Thomas said, sitting down on a rusty cot in the corner with a creak. “Everybody knows that. Tu n'as pas inventé l'eau chaude.”

John threw his hands up in frustration. “Am I the only person here who doesn't French? Alex? Please say you don't speak French.”

“Je suis désolé, John. I’m afraid I do.”

John groaned good-naturedly. “Son of a bitch!”

“Think about this, John,” Lafayette said with a smirk. “C’est plus facile pour nous parler de vous derrière votre dos.”

John grumbled and turned to stoke the fire. “You guys were out there last, what's the deal with the weather?”

“The storm doesn't seem like it's going to let up anytime soon, so it looks like we’re stuck in here for the long haul.” Thomas leaned back onto the cot, grimacing at the rusty squeak.

“Of course it's not going to let up,” Alexander said with a scowl. “It's a hurricane.”

Thomas snorted. “Sure.”

Alex’s hands were shaking now. “I swear, it's a hurricane. If you walk outside now, you will die.”

“Don't be so dramatic. It's not like you've ever seen a hurricane, anyway.”

The shelter shook with a clap of thunder and a silent tear made its way down Alexander’s face. He turned towards the fire, taking deep shuddering breaths. 

John looked towards Alexander’s tear-streaked face. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “I’m just going to stop asking, because I'm always going to get the same answer and you're clearly not okay. Just… sit by the fire, and if you need anything, me and Laf are here to help. Okay?”

“Sure.”

For a while, it was quiet except for the rain on the roof and an occasional sigh or sob from Alexander, who was curled up in a corner by the fire, his hair obscuring his face.

“Oh, fuck,” Lafayette said, looking out the dirty windows. “It's getting bad. It looks like some of the branches have broken off. We might need to board up the windows. I'll go out and do that and then walk back to the dining hall, that cool?” He walked out of the shelter, shivering at the gust of wind and started to close the shutters around the building.

John sat down next to Alexander and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You're like a fucking zombie, Alex. What's going on?”

Alexander lifted his head, revealing red eyes and a tear-stained face. “I don't… I don't want to talk about it.”

John put his arm around Alex’s shoulders, and Alex leaned into the touch. He let out a shuddering breath and melted into John’s chest. Lafayette started shutting the metal blinds around the windows, and Alex jumped every time the metal slammed into the wood of the windows. 

“Hah, what kind of man gets scared of a thunderstorm?” Thomas muttered under his breath. “You work at a camp. You're going to have to learn to deal with a storm.”

Alex weakly flipped him off. “Fuck off, Jefferson,” he said with a cracking voice. “I may be having a panic attack, but that doesn't make you any less of a dick.”

Another crack of thunder made Alexander flinch involuntarily, but his face held its scowl. Thomas laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Alexander let out a shuddering breath. “John, please.”

“Get the fuck out, Thomas.”

Thomas laughed but made no move to go. “What? You said yourself, I would die out there.”

John glared at Thomas. “Did I fucking stutter?”

Thomas almost tripped over his own feet getting out of the cabin. “Laf is going to be on my side!”

Alexander shivered at the force of the wind blown in from the slamming door. John wrapped his arms around Alex’s shaking shoulders, gently rocking him back and forth in front of the fire. 

“Thank you.”

John smiled. “I would take any reason to stand up to that dick.” He stood up and laid his jacket down on the cot in the corner. “Here. Lie down and take deep breaths. My friend back in South Carolina would have panic attacks a lot, so I know that you aren't okay.”

Alex snorted.

“No, stop. You aren't okay but this isn't the time or place. We just have to ride out the storm until we can get back to the dining hall with the rest of the camp.”

“I wish I had my journal,” Alexander said with a sigh. “That's what I did last time I… I wrote.”

John stood up. “I think I saw a pad of paper around here somewhere- hold on.” He went searching around in one of the cabinets, flourishing a small pile of notebook paper and a small, worn-down pencil. “Is this good?”

Alex took the paper and pencil and smiled. “Yeah. It's perfect.”

John sat by Alexander on the cot while he wrote, and the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the scratch of the pencil on paper while the wind whistled outside. Soon, Alex had fallen asleep, his head in John’s lap and his pencil balanced limply on his fingers as he slept peacefully. 

John picked up a piece of paper from where it had fallen on the floor and read it, squinting as he tried to make out Alexander’s cramped handwriting in the firelight.

“I never thought this could be a happy situation,” the paper read. “Stranded in a crappy shelter in the middle of a hurricane with that dickbag Thomas Jefferson. I'll admit something I very rarely do; I was wrong. I'm happier right now than I've been in a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeyyyy, 'Ronica. So sorry for such a long wait.   
> Some French:   
> Vous ne m'appellerez pas fou quand les fantômes vous obtiennent= you won't call me crazy when the ghosts get you
> 
> Tu n'as pas inventé l'eau chaude= you didn't invent hot water (you're stupid/you're not special)
> 
> Je suis désolé= I'm sorry


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James Madison exists and John is his bro. More stuff happens but that's all I feel like mentioning.

There were multiple ways this could go, and John Laurens didn't like any of them. ‘This’, of course, being his awful, hopeless, dramatic, cliche crush on Alexander Hamilton. I could tell him, John thought, mindlessly picking up sticks and branches that had been broken off of their trees during the hurricane. But that wouldn't get me much. That would lose my closest friend at this camp and my father would hear, and where would that get me? 

The hurricane had moved away by nightfall, and the two men were able to make their way back to the tent and sleep peacefully the rest of the night. John didn't tell Alexander about the paper he had seen or asked him about his panic attack, and the day went by like normal. 

John had been put in charge of picking up the branches that had fallen on the side of the camp closest to the waterfront with Lafayette and Hercules, while Alexander and Eliza cleaned up the other side. It was such a mundane task that the only thing to do was think. John had a lot to think about.

I don't even know if he's gay. John angrily threw a branch into the woods, taking out his frustration on the broken sticks on the ground. More importantly, I don't know if he likes me. I should ask him. 

John thought about that counselor in his first year, when he had finally confessed his love and within the week he was flying back home to South Carolina. I don't want to jeopardize my relationship with my best friend. He winced and broke another stick underfoot. Even in his head, the word friend hurt. That's all we should be. Friends.

“Hey, Turtle?” Lafayette yelled from the pond shelter, crumpled paper in his hand. 

“Yeah?”

Lafayette looked down at the torn piece of notebook paper in his hand. “Unrequited love is tiring. It would certainly make it easier if John loved me as well. I don't pretend to know the challenges he's facing, but I know my world would have less challenges if only I could love him freely.” Lafayette bit his lip, looking at the other half of the torn paper. “For now, we’re friends, and a marvelous pair of friends we make.”

John opened the door of the pond shelter, and Lafayette hid the first half of the paper in his pocket. “Here.”

John took the paper with a questioning look. “For now, we’re friends,” he read out loud, “and a marvelous pair of friends we make.” He smiled sadly and shoved the paper in the pocket of his jeans. “Thanks, Laf.”

Lafayette nodded, fully aware of the crumpled paper in his jacket pocket. “No problem.” 

John left the shelter cursing under his breath. We're friends. At least we're marvelous friends, right? He pushed the paper deeper into his pocket and picked up a stick. “Great!” He yelled, throwing the branch deep into the woods. 

“You okay?” Hercules yelled from across the camp. 

John laughed to himself as he kicked another stick from the path. “Hey, Eiffel?” John yelled towards the pond shelter. “I'm gonna go back to my tent. I don't feel great.”

“Okay,” Lafayette shouted back. “Feel better, mon ami!”

John trudged back to the campsite, shivering in the cold aftermath of the hurricane. “There's no right for it to be this cold in July,” he grumbled, pushing open the tent flap. 

“I absolutely agree. If it's not over eighty degrees, then it's not summer.”

“Alex?” John asked, looking inside to find his friend sitting curled up on his bed, pen in hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I felt sick, so I skimped on my duties and came back here.”

John sat down on his bed with a laugh. “That's not a great thing to do.”

Alexander lifted one eyebrow, an action that John shouldn't have found as sexy as he did. “Why are you here?”

“I did the same thing.”

Alex snorted. “You sneaky little bastard.”

John smacked Alex across the head. “At least I left Laf and Herc to clean up. You left Blue down there all alone.”

“Don't worry, I got Angelica to help her out. They're probably singing duets together right now.”

John snickered. “It's not out of the question.”

“How did the cleaning go?”

John sighed. “Well, the waterfront was hit the hardest by the storm, so… not well. There were a lot of sticks to pick up and we weren't the most productive. Laf kept singing in French, and that was pretty distracting.”

“I can imagine that,” Alex said, scratching out something in his notebook after a moment of thought. “I know it's less annoying than his pop songs, but I'm fed up with the madrigals too. If I hear Il Est Ne Le Divin Enfant one more time, I swear to god.”

“It's July, Laf!” John yelled jokingly. “It's a bit too late for Christmas carols!”

Alexander laughed and shivered. “Fuck, it's cold. Hey, can you pass me my sweater? It's on top of my bag.”

John grabbed Alex’s sweater and threw it to him. It was a thick green wooly sweater that was several too sizes too big. “It's not even that cold, man,” John said, laughing at the sweater engulfing Alex. “What're you used to?”

“I've been living here for years now and I still haven't adjusted to the weather,” Alexander said. “I grew up in the Caribbean, what can I say?”

“You did?”

Alexander looked down and picked at a loose thread in the sweater, his smile faltering. “Yeah. Nevis. Small island. I had a pretty shitty childhood which I’d rather not talk about.”

John held up his hands. “It's cool, Alex. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.”

“Thanks.”

For a while, the tent was quiet except for the scratching of Alex’s pen and the turning of pages. After a few minutes of silence, Alex looked up to John draped over his bed. His hair, having fallen out of its ponytail, was carelessly covering his pillow. Alex grumbled silently to himself. “I just want to FLOOF HIS FUCKING HAIR.” He wrote, cringing at what he had put on the page. “That is probably the most idiotic thing I have ever written in here, but it's true and pathetic. I just want to mess with his fucking hair and kiss his fucking face and aaaaauuuggghhhhhhh.”

Alexander groaned. “Did I really just write ‘aaaaauuuggghhhhhhh’ with seven H’s?” He mumbled. “Oh shit, I said that out loud.”

John guffawed and sat up, his hair settling wildly around his face. “What the hell was that about?” He asked, slipping a bookmark into his worn copy of Fahrenheit 451. “Who writes out ‘augh’ with seven H’s?”

“Don't berate me,” Alexander grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “It's not my proudest moment.”

“I would give anything to know what you write in that journal,” John said, leaning forward on his hands. “If it constitutes the brilliant usage of ‘augh’ with seven H’s.”

“I hate you.”

John's phone chimed, directing the attention off of Alexander’s writing blunder and onto the vibrating phone at the bottom of his bed. John reached over and picked it up. “It's from Washington,” he said, opening up the text and reading it out loud. “The kids are done with breakfast and I'm going to send them back to the campsite. Make sure to be there because the kids miss their counselors.” John sighed. “Frowny face.”

“Oh, that's right,” Alex said, swinging his feet off of the bed and slipping on his sneakers. “They haven't seen us since breakfast yesterday since we slept in the pond shelter during the hurricane. I had forgotten about the kids.” 

“They probably think we abandoned them or something,” John said. “You'd better have a really great rap prepared to make it up to them.”

Alex smacked John on the side of his head, choosing to ignore the way his hair moved and settled softly against his face like new-fallen snow… okay, I’m stopping now. “You little shit, Turtle.”

“Okay, okay,” John said, pulling his hair into a tight ponytail, much to the chagrin of Alexander. “You're right. It's my turn to rap.”

With a laugh, Alex and John left the tent and sat down on the picnic table in the middle of the campsite. “Why don't you ever actually sit on the benches?” John asked, looking up at the small man perched on the table. “There's no point in sitting on the tabletop every time.”

“I like to feel tall, John. I thought you of all people would understand.”

John stood up so that he as eye-level with Alex. “What's that supposed to mean, you little acorn?”

Alex snorted and tried to ignore the fact that John’s face was hovering less than an inch from his. “Never heard that one before.”

“HEY! Turtle and A-Ham! Stop making out!”

John stepped back and rubbed his eyes. “And here’re the kids.”

“Excuse me,” Jared said, hands on his hips. “I am a strong independent woman who don't need no man.”

Nat punched him in the arm. “You little acorn.”

John elbowed Alexander in the ribs before wincing in pain. “See, I told you that was an insult. Other people say that too.”

“No, I learned it from you, Turtle,” Nat said with a smirk. “I've never heard anybody else ever say that except you.”

“Damnit, Nat, I had a point.”

“Whether or not calling someone an acorn is a legitimate insult is not what we need to be talking about right now,” Alex said, vaulting off of the table and standing in front of the mob of kids is not what we need to be doing right now, guys.” Alex said, vaulting off of the table and standing in front of the mob of teenagers. “What actually are we supposed be doing?”

“You're a mess, A-Ham,” John said, standing up by Alexander’s side. “It’s time for you to go to archery. We’ll walk you there, but we will leave you alone with Eiffel because it's our free time and I'm not giving it up.” There were murmurs of displeasure. “Alright guys, let's go!”

John and Alex led the sloppy line towards the archery green, choosing to ignore the loud chanting that the teenagers had started. Cam was the most obnoxious out of all of them and kept on trying to get A-Ham to sing along. In the middle of one song about a moose, John leaned over to Alex. “You might as well sing along,” John whispered. “These kids are merciless.”

“Damn right we are!” Cam yelled directly into Alexander’s ear. “Come on! FIVE LITTLE MUFFINS IN THE MUFFIN SHOP!” John joined in with the chanting, shrugging his shoulders at Alex’s scowl. “YOU KNOW, THE KIND WITH THE HONEY AND THE NUTS ON TOP!”

They reached the archery green a few songs later, and most of the chanting had become weak from the strain on the kid’s vocal chords. “Ce qui se passe? I know it's camp and all, but maybe enjoy the nature sounds for once, mes amis?” Lafayette said dramatically. “Come on, let's do some archery.”

The kids filed into the archery green with a cheer, gleefully following Lafayette towards the targets. John turned around almost immediately, a smile on his face. “Hell yeah, counselor free time.”

Alex stopped. “I can understand why you're excited, but what are we even going to do? I mean, there's not much activity to do without the kids.”

“Well my dear friend, you are going to take a shower,” John said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Because you smell like a teenage boy minus the cheap spray deodorant.”

“That's offensive to teenage boys with good hygiene.”

“Well, you aren't one of them. This isn't college anymore, you can’t stay away from all human contact and live off instant noodles.” John started walking again, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. “I already brought a towel and a change of clothes. You can go back to the tent and grab your stuff and meet me down at the counselor cabin. The showers are way nicer there.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said with a laugh. “I get it, I smell. I'll see you at the counselor cabin.” 

Alex grabbed his stuff quickly and walked to the counselor cabin. The cabin was busy as always, with counselors lounging in their time off or getting snacks or supplies from the seemingly endless cupboards. Eliza was there, with her hair wet and a white bathrobe thrown over her blue sundress. 

“Hey, Eliza,” Alex said, walking up and sitting next to her. “Why so dressed up? I've never seen you in anything other than overalls or jeans.”

Eliza laughed. “I'm going to go to lunch with Angelica and Peggy. We're seeing our dad. I don't necessarily want to wear paint-covered jeans to a nice lunch, you feel me?”

Alex nodded. “Is the shower open?”

“No, sorry.” Eliza shrugged. “John just got in. You'll have to wait. Want to play Truth or Dare with Angie and Peggy? They're in the kitchen.”

Alexander shrugged a yes and the two girls emerged from the kitchen laden with snacks. “I thought you were going to go to lunch!”

Angelica smirked and dumped a pile of chip bags on the coffee table. “You can't play truth or dare without snacks, everybody knows that.”

Peggy grabbed a bag of pretzels from the table and collapsed on the couch next to Alexander. “Can one of my dares be changing out of this dress? It's scratchy as hell.”

The dress in question was a short gold dress with a flared skirt and a thick white belt. It was, in a word, adorable. Angelica had a longer pink dress with a low square neckline. Eliza shrugged off Peggy’s question. “We’ll see how the game goes.”

Alex took a bag of chips and put his feet on the table. “Let's go.”

Angelica went first. “Eliza,” she said, motioning to her sister, “truth or dare?”

“Um… truth.”

“Alright,” Angelica said after a moment of contemplation. “Do you have any secret talents? I need to know.”

Eliza snorted. “Aw, that’s a shitty question. But yeah, I play the ukulele.”

Angelica held up her hands. “It's the first question of the game. I didn't want to go to hard.”

“I’m not surprised,” Peggy said. “Ukulele’s a very ‘Liza thing. Me next!”

“Okay,” Eliza said, tapping her chin in mock thought. “Truth or dare?”

Peggy smiled and sat with her legs crossed on the couch. “Dare.”

Eliza smiled wickedly. “Do a handstand for a minute.”

“‘Liza!” Peggy cried. “I'm wearing a skirt!”

“We’re your sisters and Alexander’s gay. Go.”

With a grumble, Peggy climbed off of the couch and dutifully did a handstand. Angelica kept time on her phone. “Um… I'm actually bisexual…” Alex muttered, but either no one heard or no one cared. 

The timer sounded after one minute, and Peggy surfaced with her face flushed red. Everyone clapped. Peggy curtsied and smoothed her dress down. “Alright, let's do this thing, Alex. Truth or dare?”

Alexander weighed his options. He had too much baggage to choose truth, and Peggy didn't seem like a particularly mischievous person. “Dare.”

Peggy grinned. “I dare you… to kiss Eliza.”

“Oh, come on!” Eliza groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I hate you guys.”

Alex shrugged and kissed Eliza on the cheek. Peggy guffawed. “No! You're weak, Alexander, weak I say! A real kiss.”

Both Alex and Eliza blushed at this. “Really?” Eliza said, glaring at Peggy and Angelica, who were giggling together.

“You may say you're over 21,” Alex said, pointing an accusatory finger at the girls, “but you have the souls of a five-year-old.”

“I'll take that as a complement,” Angelica said. “Now shut up and kiss.”

Eliza sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “Alright, lay one on me.” Alexander gulped but dutifully leaned in and kissed Eliza. Angelica whooped and Peggy feigned puking. The two girls quieted at the sound of a slamming door. Alex pulled away from Eliza to see John standing in the doorway. 

John looked crestfallen. “The shower’s open, Alex.”

Alexander gulped and nodded. “Yeah. I'll… go take a shower now.”

 

“I’m going to get some more snacks,” Eliza said, quickly standing up and leaving the room. “See you in a few.”

John sat down awkwardly next to Peggy. “Why was Alex kissing Eliza? Are they like… together?”

Angelica guffawed. “Hell no!”

“We were playing truth or dare,” Peggy gasped between laughs. “Eliza would never actually have the balls to kiss him if not on a dare.”

Angelica shoved her sister playfully. “You can't just blab about your sister’s crushes like that. You know what ‘Liza would do if she found out.”

Peggy nodded solemnly. “Cut off my head and parade it around camp on a stick.” John laughed softly and looked mournfully towards the ground. Peggy smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “What's wrong, my man?”

Angelica smacked the side of Peggy’s head. “Don't be daft, obviously the poor boy’s pining.”

“Oh, like you're one to talk about pining, Miss I Will Never Be Satisfied!”

Angelica made eye contact with John, who quickly looked down at the ground and wrung his hands. “Look, I’m sorry, John.” Angelica said softly. “I didn't mean to be rude.”

John nodded. “It's fine. Look, I’m going to go back to my tent. I’m sure you have preparations for your lunch.” John stood up and shouldered his bag, ignoring Peggy’s protest. “Tell Alex where I am when he gets out.”

“I wonder when they're gonna get together,” Peggy said thoughtfully. “My bet’s on All-Camp.”

Eliza stuck her head out through the door of the kitchen. “Of course they will, Peg. Everybody hooks up at All-Camp.”

The girls startled. “Eliza!” Angelica squeaked. “I didn't know you could hear us!”

Peggy ignored her. “Do you want to hook up with Alex at All-Camp?”

Eliza winked. “I'll leave him for John. I've got my eyes on that Maria chick.”

“You're dangerously pansexual, ‘Liza,” Angelica said with a laugh. “We’ve got to go, Dad’s waiting for us.”

 

John quickly reached his tent and collapsed on his bed. With a yell, he punched his pillow and shoved his face into the fabric of his sleeping bag. His phone bing!ed with a text, and he took a break from his woes to find out what it said. It was from Alexander. “Wanna grab some free food w/me?”

His phone pinged again. This time, it was from James Madison. I didn't even know he had my phone number, John thought. I don't think I've talked to him for more than a few minutes. Nevertheless, he opened up the text to see what it said. “Having some relationship trouble,” the text read. “Want to get some comfort food at the dining hall?”

John sighed. “Sure, man.” He texted back to Madison. “I’m pretty sad myself.”

I hope Alex doesn't go to the dining hall anyway. I really don't want to see him. John slipped on a pair of sneakers, not even bothering to tie them, and started jogging towards the dining hall. 

Madison was waiting at an empty table when he got there. There were other people in the dining hall, of course, some other counselors on break and some kids who had used their camper’s choice period to hang out in the dining hall. Madison was sitting at an empty table next to a group of kids eating popsicles and playing a game of poker with M&Ms. He waved cheerily and couched into a handkerchief. 

“Hey, man,” John said, sliding into a chair next to him. “You sick or something?”

Madison nodded. “Yeah, I've got a cold.”

“In the middle of summer?” John said with a laugh. “Your immune system is as weak as hell.”

Madison laughed and coughed again. “Wanna get some food?”

Five minutes later, John’s plate was full of brownies and popsicles, and he had a cup of chocolate milk. Madison had a small bowl of macaroni and cheese.

“I see you go sweet with pity food,” Madison said, taking a bite of his pasta.

John gestured with a popsicle at Madison’s food. “I see you go traditional. Classy.”

Madison blushed and shrugged. “Not usually. This is an… exception.”

John nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“Care to delve deep into my relationship troubles?” Madison said sadly. “I mean, of course you don't, but I'm going to tell you anyway.”

“What's going on with Dolley?” John asked, taking a bite of a brownie. “Does she still live in North Carolina?”

“No, nothing's going on. She's perfect, like always. And yes, she still lives in North Carolina. I tried to convince her to be a counselor this year but she couldn't make it.” Madison looked down at his plate sadly.

“So what's the problem?”

“I have a crush,” Madison said, sounding heartbroken.

“So?” John asked, looking up at the other man. “That's not a big deal.”

“I have a crush on Thomas Jefferson.”

“Oh, shit.”

Madison sighed and rubbed his temples. “See? It's bad.”

“It's not… bad…” John said, cursing himself. “Yeah, you're right. It's pretty bad.” 

Madison took a defeated bite of his mac & cheese. “I’m hopeless.”

“No you're not!” John said, trying and failing to cheer up the other man. “You just need… communication.”

“With who?” Madison snorted. “Just go up to the guy and say ‘hey, wanna kiss?’ and just hope for the best?”

John leaned back in his chair. “I mean, it's not a bad idea. No, I’m talking about with Dolley. If you want this to actually go anywhere, then you need to say something to somebody who can actually do something about it.”

“I’m not going to break up with Dolley over him, John.”

John startled as he saw Alex wandering into the dining hall. “I’m not saying that you need to. All I'm saying is that if you don't want this to be unrequited, then you need to do something.”

“I can see you ogling Alex, John. Don't stay with me. Go talk to him; I'll be fine!” Madison pushed John out of his seat towards Alexander. “Remember, communication! Only a few more days until All-Camp!”

John slowly made his way over to where Alex was standing. “You didn't answer my text, so I came by myself,” Alexander said. “I didn't know you would be here. By the way, what's All-Camp? I've heard everybody talking about it.”

“Well…” John said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, “it’s a day where the entirety of camp gets together and we play games and stuff? This year’s a color war so we get put on color teams and we do team-building stuff and play games like capture the flag and stuff…”

“But why does everybody say that people hook up and get together at All-Camp?”

John winced. “I was hoping you wouldn't ask that.”

Alexander put his hands on his hips. “Well I did, so fess up.”

“Well, there's this tradition that the counselors have to dip their hand in paint powder and… smack the paint onto whoever they love or have a crush on. Our ace counselors just sort of hit themselves.”

Alexander contemplated this for a minute. “Cool.”

“Cool?” John asked, looking quizzically at Alex. “What do you mean, cool?”

“Well, my dearest John,” Alexander said coyly, “it’s a word that people say when they don't have anything else to say. Crazy how the English language works, right?”

“I don't need your sass, Alex,” John laughed. “All-Camp is serious business.”

“Such serious business,” Alexander joked, mockingly waving his hands. “So serious to slap your crush with powdered paint.”

“Don't mock our camp traditions, you acorn. It's always the first years that get into the activities the most.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said, “I give up. We need to get going, Laf’ll be wondering where we are.”

“Alright. Away we go then, my dear Alex.” John said, bowing and linking arms with Alexander.

“You don't have to be so dramatic. We're walking to the archery field, not your wedding venue.”

 

“You are Satan, your children are Satan, your bloodline will forever be cursed.”

“Jesus, Laf. What did they do?” Alex asked, looking over to where the kids were innocently packing up their stuff. 

“They sang all too loudly, got into arguments that ended in fistfights, and they did THIS!” Lafayette cried dramatically, turning his head to reveal a large braid instead of his normal ponytail.

“It doesn't look too bad,” John said, looking confused.

“It doesn't. I look fabulous, but that's not the point. You don't touch the hairs, mes amis!”

Alex held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. We’ll live in fear for the rest of our lives, blah blah blah. Do I need to bring anyone to the nurse?”

“No,” Lafayette said bitterly. “I'm a great counselor who keeps mes chères safe and respectful, unlike you fiends.”

“I'm going to ignore the fact that you called me a fiend and take my very respectful children to crafts,” John said indignantly. “I'm a great counselor.”

“On va le laisser rêver, d’accord?” Lafayette muttered to Alex, elbowing him in the side.

“Il délire,” Alexander replied with a shrug. “My main man Turtle may never realize the truth. J'ai le cœur brisé.”

“I hate you both.” John said with an adorable scowl. “Let's go to crafts, I know for a fact that Herc doesn't speak French.”

“Don't be so sure, mon ami!” 

John sighed. “I want to die.”

“Heeyyooo! Turtle! A-Ham! How's it hanging?” Cam hollered across the archery field, firing an arrow and missing terribly. Lafayette sighed deeply.

“Hey, Cam!” John shouted back. “Can y’all pack up? We need to get going.”

Alex elbowed John in the side. “Y’all. You're adorable.”

“I was raised in South Carolina, what can I say?”

Alexander snorted. “You can stop saying ‘y’all’, for one.”

“Fuck you, A-Ham.” John said, punching Alex lightly in the shoulder. “Imma say y’all as much as I want. I’m not kidding about getting going though, guys!”

The kids started packing up their things loudly. “Don't swear, Turtle, you little acorn.”

“You're shorter than me, A-Ham,” John frowned. “You don't get to call anybody little.”

“It's true,” Lafayette chimed in. “You're like a… how you say… woodland pixie.”

Alexander blushed angrily. “I hate you all.”

“Ah ah ah,” John said, wagging his finger in Alex’s face. “I believe you mean ‘I hate y’all’.”

Lafayette and John snickered while Alex glared at the two. “Let's just leave. At least Herc’s actually a good person.”

“I've known him for a lot longer than you,” Lafayette said with a smirk. “I wouldn't be so confident.”

The three men laughed, Alexander’s face still tinged pink. Nat came trotting over to them, her drawstring bag slung over one shoulder. 

“Hope I'm not interrupting your friendship orgy,” she said, “but we’re late for class.”

“Oh, fuck.” Alex said, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Goddamn. I mean- shit. Fuck. Hasa diga eebowai.”

Nat laughed. “I'll ignore that you said all that. We do have to leave, though.”

John smiled and fist bumped Lafayette. “Later, man. C’mon, guys, let's go!”

Alex and John led the pack of teenagers back down the hill, screaming and yelling camp songs as they trailed like a ragtag parade down towards the crafts cabin. Alexander winked to Eliza as they passed the pavilion and pretended to not notice John’s face flushing. A rumble of leftover thunder shook in the distance, and John pretended to not notice Alexander flinch. 

It was perfect, except it wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Sorry for the long wait. I don't have a good excuse.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fic of my favorite ship. There will be more chapters, I promise. This was a short chapter, and I can't promise that the others will be longer. I'm trying!


End file.
